


beetle-borne

by geckx3



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Body Modification, Gen, Insect Wings, Phil Hears VoicesTM Cause Of End Fuckery I'm Calling It Canon, Wings, feat. phil's season 3 hardcore death, more character tags will be added once they show up im not gonna clickbait you, no beta we die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckx3/pseuds/geckx3
Summary: Phil falls.The powers-that-be decide to do something about it.Techno falls.Phil decides that he won't be the only one saved.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	beetle-borne

**Author's Note:**

> lets see if i can do a multi-chapter.  
> next one, about techno's fuckery, will be at most in a week? idk depends on how easy it is to write.
> 
> anyways insect wings philza is best philza and piglin techno is best techno, don't @ me

Phil is falling.

It’s funny how quickly things can go wrong. How one clumsy move, one slip-up, one misplaced step and it all starts crumbling down - or rather, the rock under your feet starts crumbling, off the island and away into the Void, bringing you along with it. For a second it’s all slow motion. The tilt, the stumble, the desperate attempt to scramble back onto the loose, sand-like endstone, milliseconds stretched over decades. His fingers grasp for a grip and find none. The rock slips away. Everything slips away. And he’s falling.

As he plummets away from the warm, pulsing Chorus trees the air quickly becomes cold. His speed increases, and increases, freezing winds howling at his face and whipping his robe into a frenzy. Terminal velocity approaches, along with the inky darker-than-dark grasp of the lower End realm. He’s only got a few seconds left before it’s all over. His one, lonely life will shatter. And he’ll be gone.

Phil struggles against the wind, and wins one small victory: he swivels round, looking down at the Void rather than up at the rapidly shrinking islands. He will meet his death head-forward and proud. He will look at that nothing and think of better things. Ensure that the last thought he has isn’t of the End cities left unexplored, the islands above him, the Overworld or the Nether he’s leaving behind. The last thought he has will be of Wilbur. That, he must be certain of. He won’t go without Wilbur.

The lower realm approaches, embraces him, slinks its inky black over his body and fogs the air so that he can’t even see beyond his arms. His vision, bit by bit by bit, is taken. His sense of touch, too - the winds strip his skin raw and bare till all he feels is biting cold, and nothing more. Even his hearing seems gone. There is nothing but the howling winds, till even that is gone, and he’s left with a soft, welcoming, crooning static.

Static, and the voices. Little whispering things, to soft to be audible but loud enough to be noticed. He hears concern. Anger. Grief. A sadistic kind of joy. A million hurried conversations and discussions about  _ what to do, second chance? not fair, it wasn’t supposed to do that, glitch glitch glitch, purge the weak, second life kekw, restart, try again, should repay him, really, for the inconvenience, but he owes us for saving him! both, then,  _ the voices reach a sort of chaotic unity, some unanimous decision Phil isn’t privy to the details of, just that  _ we’ll give him a present, and we’ll give him a price, and we’ll call it a day alright? alright. agreement pog agreement pog unity pog. _

And something behind him explodes. Not behind his body, but behind his field of view,  **out** of his body. Something out of his view bursts forth from out of his skin, out of his robes; the cape parts, something glowing and unnatural and  **new** stretches its membranes, and a great buzzing noise pieces through the static, and he’s  **flying** .

Up! Out of that murky well of voices and back towards the familiar islands. The energy he feels is overwhelming, intoxicating even - he shows off, loops around the island’s perimeter before coming to a rough-and-tumble landing, half tangled in a Chorus tree’s soft, squishy branches.

He’s back. He’s safe. He’s...got wings coming out of his shoulders.

Now that Phil’s not plummeting to his death, he has the opportunity to inspect this, quite frankly, un-fucking-believable development. They’re in a rather inconvenient place - he has to crane his neck as far as human(?)ly possible in a pretty damn uncomfortable position to get a good look at the appendages, but taking a good look at the things is worth it.

They’re...wings. As he suspected. But not phantom-wings, or bat-wings, or even dragon-wings. Delicate, membrane-laced, iridescent beetle wings. His cape, usually a bulky length of grey sheep wool blanket Will had knitted him for his 30th birthday, had morphed into a hard shell carapace, positioned outwards above his new features. As he relaxed, the membranes involuntary shifted to rest upon his back, and the shell-cape slid back into its usual form, neatly covering the wings with nought but a silver fragment of them remaining visible.

This was a...situation. Inhuman features on humanoid creatures aren’t  _ unheard of _ , per-say; there were the half-human, half-animal Piglins, the undead skeletons and zombies of former humans, and of course the ever-growing hybrid population scattered amongst the Playerbase. But  _ gaining _ those features? Especially gaining those features from the  _ End realm _ ? That...also wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely wasn’t common either. From memory, Phil can only remember a few cases of that, with the most recent being some sort of illicit research station messing around with Enderman DNA. He never did find out what happened to the poor patients there…

But enough of that. The point is, this isn’t normal. This isn’t even in the same continent as ‘normal’. He needs help, someone he can confide in, but there’s no one in the entire fucking  _ world _ who’d even come  _ close _ to knowing what the hell was going on here! There’s no one else-

_ you’ve got us kekw supportchamp! supportchamp! wingza support group assemble beetleza beetleza F lonelychamp F lonelychamp F lonelychamp F lonelychamp sadza panicza hey guys we should probably stop he’s not looking too great panicattackchamp hey why’s he yelling like that? loudza loudza loudza loudza loudza loudza loudza loudz _

…

**Shit** , this is bad.


End file.
